Five Times Neal Set's His Anklet Off Accidentally On Purpose
by Baileys
Summary: 5 times Neal set's his anklet off accidentally on purpose or the story of how Peter ends up allowing Neal free passage to house without setting off an alert.


**5 times Neal set off his tracker ****accidentally**** on purpose.**

1.

"Neal?"

"Peter."

Neal's grin is all teeth, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes the likes Peter's seen a lot of recently.

"What are doing at my house? Again."

"I had an idea about the case."

"And tomorrow in the office wasn't good enough?"

"Is Elizabeth home?" Neal looks around the open front door.

Peter rolls his eyes. "Not that it's any of your business, but she's still at work."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm-" then Peter stops, "never mind what I'm doing, what are you doing?"

"I told you the-"

"The case, yes. Try again. I find it hard to believe you're that committed to any investigation that doesn't involve models or sparkly things."

"I might find mortgage fraud intriguing."

"Nobody finds mortgage fraud intriguing."

* * *

2.

"Neal why are you here?"

Peter grabs a fist full of shirt and drags him off his front step, into the house.

"I needed to speak with you."

"There's this little thing called a phone? You know you can use it to talk to people without leaving your radius and setting off alarms."

Neal paces to the edge of the living room, hands stuffed in his pockets, completely ignoring the reprimand. "I was in the neighbourhood, thought I'd pop by."

"You shouldn't _be_ in the neighbourhood."

Peter shakes his head and reaches for his cell. He angrily points at Neal to sit. Neal takes the warning and sits like an obedient puppy. Peter doesn't take his eyes off him as he calls the tracking service. A short conversation gets him through to central control where it's clear the marshals where seconds from knocking down his door.

Peter hangs up after apologising for the hundredth time and checks the anklet, waiting for the little blinking light to turn a solid green before speaking. "You've got the ride back to June's to fill me in on whatever it is that's so important it couldn't wait until Monday so I can decide whether or not to throw your ass back in jail for the weekend."

Peter grabs his coat.

"Can we get take-out on the way? There's this new Korean place I've wanted to try-"

"Get in the car!"

Neal acts like he really doesn't get it but follows anyway.

* * *

3.

"Hi hon." Peter strolls in a little after ten, "damn budget meetings always turn into a freaking UN discussion. What do I care about the colour of the damn folders for god's sake. I'm going to nominate Jones sit in my place next time, share the pain- what the hell is this?"

Elizabeth shakes her head and smiles, leaning against the kitchen doorway a glass of wine in hand. "If you had been home on time, you would know."

"How'd he get here?" He's pointing at the sleeping man on his couch, the one with the blinking jewellery that was supposed to prevent occurrences such as this.

She pretends to think, "cab."

"Funny," Peter let's her know he knows she's taking the piss. "Hon he can't be here the marshals-"

"Are already aware." She comes over, hugs him. "Jones managed to square it with them."

"Oh, he is definitely being my stand in for the next meeting."

"Hush," she hits him playfully, "I asked him to. Didn't want a whole contingent of marshal's descending on our doorstep. And you weren't answering."

"My phone died." Peter sighs unhelpfully. "Doesn't explain why though?"

"No, it doesn't and I think it's about time you sorted it out."

"Me?"

"Yes you," she rolls her eyes. "Peter he's ran to you nearly every night this week. Call me crazy but I'm guessing either he wants something or-"

"Or?"

"Or he feels safe here."

"He wants something." Peter dismisses.

"Maybe he wants to feel safe. Four years of being told when to eat and when to sleep is a long time, you didn't think he's was going to revert back to being totally independent overnight, surely?"

"Ah crap," he sighs.

"That's exactly what you thought."

"Let's say I didn't much think about that side of things no."

"So, are you still mad I've let a criminal into our house?" She says slyly, already sure of his answer.

"How can I ever stay mad at you, him on the other hand." Peter lets out an undignified 'ow' when El hits him.

* * *

4.

Peter looks through the gap in the curtain. _Not again._

"Neal this is ridiculous." He stands with the door wide open, allowing Neal free entry. They've played this game enough that he has the moves down pat.

"Sorry, I didn't know where else to go." Neal trudges in, hands in his pockets, head down. Same body language as usual, but not the same cocky response he's used to.

Suspicion sufficiently raised Peter dares to ask, "Okay, what's wrong?"

Neal ignores him, looking everywhere but at the man whose home he's invaded without warning or permission once again. Used to this part of the game Peter makes the usual phones calls and once again apologies profusely for the misunderstanding. It's then that he's told by the unmoved operator that they saw where Caffrey was heading and this time decided to watch instead of mobilising. She asks if he had noticed the pattern and questions if he planned on dealing with it anytime soon before hanging up. Peter pauses, cell still held to his ear long after disconnection. Unable to find an answer even for himself, he decides to deal with it in the morning.

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Neal looks up with hooded eyes, from his by now well-rehearsed position on the couch.

"Depends." Peter muses, dropping his cell onto the coffee table and himself next to Neal. "What's going on?"

"Are the marshal's coming?"

"No. Stop avoiding."

Neal sighs. Head down, gaze fixed on the floor. Peter looks him up and down, taking an assessing investigative eye to the closed off body language and shy demeanour. Neal's sober, aware, not physically harmed as far as he can tell. Still broke his radius. Because apparently in times like this a phone call won't do. Feeling no more enlightened than he has been all the other times Neal's shown up at his door unexpected, Peter takes a trip the basement and returns to find Neal exactly where he left him.

"Get changed." He throws a t-shirt and pair of sweats at him, ones fresh from the dryer.

"What's this?" Neal holds the clothes out like he's never seen such casual wear before.

"You can't sleep in a designer suit."

"Sleep?"

The panic in his eyes is almost worth the disturbed night.

"Yes. Sleep. As in I'm not driving you back once again in the middle of the night. You wanted to be here, you're here. Live with it."

"I can just go, it's fine I know my way." Neal mutters, getting up and heading for the door.

Peter steps in his way, pushes him back down. "It's not you getting lost that worries me."

"You worry about me?"

Peter growls, anger at the misdirect surfacing. "I don't need another middle of the night argument with the marshals, which is what will happen if I let you leave unescorted."

"You could just extend my radius until I'm home."

Peter glares at him, daring him to push some more. Neal holds his stares for a short time, but finally seeming to get the line he's crossed and keeps crossing, gives up his fight once it dawns on him that Peter is genuinely pissed off this time.

"I shouldn't have come." He says suddenly, sadly.

"No, you shouldn't," Peter watches the shoulders fall, eyes turn glassy and find a spot on the floor to focus on, "but I'm glad you did." He smiles softly, feeling guilty but at the same time like he's being played. "I'm here for you Neal, you want to tell me what's going on?"

Neal manages to meet his eyes but shrugs his answer.

"Okay." Peter steps over to the couch and taps his knees. "Up." He leads the way upstairs, walks Neal into the guess bedroom which is already made up. "Me and Elizabeth are right next door if you need us." He says simply.

Neal remains quiet. Doesn't complain about the childish treatment or the fact he's essentially being held prisoner. Satisfied that'll do for the night and not questioning his sanity for letting a felon sleep in his house, Peter turns and heads into his own room.

"I can't keep coming here, can I?"

Hand grasping the door handle Peter turns back to check it really is Neal standing behind him. He again takes in the nervous stance, averted eyes and slightly shaking hands. Whatever's got him rattled tonight Peter knows pushing won't make him share. It will make him run… and Peter's had enough of that. Smiling he waits for Neal to meet his gaze before giving him what he came for tonight. "We'll see."

* * *

5.

"Hello Neal."

Neal pauses, confused at El having opened the door before he even got close to knocking.

He enters the house warily and Peter appears from the kitchen, "took you long enough."

"You were expecting me?"

"I'm monitoring your anklet too remember."

Neal frowns, steps further into the living room. El excuses herself and heads up-stairs.

"Don't you need to make a phone call?" Neal fidgets uneasily.

Peter smiles. "Nope." He says playfully, snagging a beer and passing Neal one.

"You going to let the marshals take me back to prison?" Neal blanches, taking the beer automatically in his fear.

"You know leaving your radius will result in that, yet you still keep coming again and again, why?"

Neal looks away, eyes shining.

"I survived prison because of Kate. She kept me sane, gave me hope. Then suddenly she wasn't there anymore. No one was..."

"That's your reasoning for prison. You're not in prison."

"I'm in a sort of prison. Knowing I can't leave its … suffocating. I was never claustrophobic but after experiencing solitary confinement it's kind of impossible not to feel like the walls are closing in sometimes, you know?"

"That explains some late-night wandering, it doesn't explain why you feel the need to wander here."

Peter's pushing and he's going to get what he wants. Neal starts to shake his head, nervous and uncertain. This is truth Peter's pulling out of him and it's a moment to behold.

"I don't really like being alone." Neal punctuates with a smile that says everything. It's not a lie, but it's as much as Neal can admit to. He's saying _I need you to stay sane, please don't make me think about why._

This arrangement isn't going how he planned it, but then deep-down Peter always knew it wouldn't, they were too entwined, too involved in his each other's life's. He was prepared for some ups and downs, but not quite like this. Neal's looking at him like a kicked puppy, Peter takes pity and lets him know the marshals are not coming to haul him away.

"Why?"

Peter blows out a long breath. No alarm sounded tonight because Peter had decided to take control and end the game. Pick your battles was always the first rule in establishing in boundaries and Peter knew no matter what he said, Neal would continue to show up at his house uninvited. He wasn't overly happy about it, but was willing to put up with it. He could however reduce the impact on others and remove the risk of Neal accidentally getting himself thrown back into prison for a being an idiot. It took some finagling, but the marshals have agreed Neal can have a free clear path to his house in Brooklyn, providing there's no deviation. Not an extension to his two miles, but a thruway to a safe place. It was a tough decision - one Peter hopes he won't come to regret.

He reiterates this to Neal. Making sure he lays down the law as an immovable object to which is not a challenge to circumvent. He stresses the reasons to use this little extension is not to show up at all hours of night, but to allow Neal the freedom to reach out if he feels the need to.

"You understand Neal? I'm responsible for you, you got a problem you come to me, but if you play any games then-"

"Straight back to prison, I got it."

Neal moves so fast Peter's ill prepared for the force of the arms wrapping around his torso as the body slams into his, head pressed central to his chest. He starts laughing because the situation is so surreal, but then catches on that the shaking in Neal's shoulders is not because of him, Neal is actually shaking. Instinct has him returning the hug full force.

"Thank you." Neal's slightly muffled voice travels up to him.

Hands running through curly dark hair and stroking the tremors out of the tense back, Peter says the only thing anyone would in a situation like this. "You're welcome."


End file.
